


Then all was still

by Im_Proud_Of_Us



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, Coma, Not Happy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-15
Updated: 2019-03-15
Packaged: 2019-11-18 13:46:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18121760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Im_Proud_Of_Us/pseuds/Im_Proud_Of_Us
Summary: This is something I wrote a while back. I deleted it from here because I couldn't find the rest of the document and now it's resurfaced.Girl meets boy. They fall in love. They break up. One day the boy sees the girl, and interacts with her. But she doesn't know who he is.





	1. Chapter 1

It had been two years, three months, eight days, and twelve hours since he’d last seen her. The break up had been tough, as most are, and they didn’t speak any more. He gave some half-assed comments about how even thinking of her brought him pain, which he knew would make her back off. She never wanted to leave on a bad note, always trying to apologize for stupid mistakes she’d made. She had led him on when she knew a relationship would only end badly for them. In the end, she tried to make up with him, but he always ignored her. More than once she’d wanted to text him in an angry fervor, just to know why he hated her so much. So she could hate him, instead of feeling such sorrow for causing him anguish. But it didn’t happen as she wished.

He wandered around the strange retail shop. It was definitely a tourist trap, but it had interesting little trinkets. Plastic shrunken heads, imitation fertility idols, and gag gifts such as shock gum, or cooked and flavored crickets. If he had thought back, he could’ve remembered this was one of her favorite places in her hometown. But of course, he wasn’t thinking things through. A bell chimed, signalling someone entering the shop.

“That’s weird.” He thought. “Most people go through the museum and then pass through the gift shop.” He looked up to find the offender. His breath hitched, his pupils dilated, and his heart seemed to stop. It was her.

She looked good. Since he had last seen her, she’d lost some weight. Something she was horribly insecure about, she’d never been slim enough in her eyes. Her hair was longer, he remembered how excited she was when she first got it cut short. She’d always wanted it some neon color, but between school and work, she’d never been allowed to make that happen. If he had looked a bit closer, he would’ve seen the angry red scar the trailed from just above her ear down the the nape of her neck. Her hair covered most of it, but there was still a little bit showing. Something she was insecure about.

A few seconds after she entered, her eyes landed on him. She gave a distant and polite smile, but continued walking to the counter. Then he noticed her clothes. Red and black shirt, black work pants, work shoes. Of course she would get a job here. He wanted to hit himself. Of course she would want to work at one of her favorite places. He watched her walk to one of her coworkers, exchanging a laugh and… shaking hands?

“Must be an inside joke.” He thought bitterly. “She’s all about affection.” Something he wished he could forget. She always gave the best hugs. Ducking behind the curtain, she went to do something. He wasn’t sure what. Probably talk to her boss, or clock in. He was suddenly very interested in the combs, disguised as switchblades, that were in front of him. They were neatly laid out in a bin, and he wished that his emotions could be like that. Neatly packaged away until he needed one, then he could open it up and use it, before returning it to its proper location. Picking one up, he decided to buy it. Walking over to the counter, he noticed she’d returned. His steps faltered, but he was determined. There was no point trying to avoid this, she’d already seen him.

He put the comb on the counter, and watched as she scanned the little barcode. A price popped up on her screen, and she turned to him with a wide smile.

“$3.25 is your total.” Her voice had changed. Just barely, but it was clear as day for someone like him. There was a scratchy tone to it, almost like it had been damaged? Again, if he’d been paying closer attention he might’ve noticed the more healed scar that lined the front of her throat. He shakily handed her a $5. She took it without delay, not noticing how he flinched away from her hand. She started humming something, a tune he recognized from the radio. It was a pop melody of a catchy song that most people had been over for months now. She should’ve been too. She was always up on the latest music trends, why was she humming a song from almost a year ago?

“$1.75 is your change.” She said, bagging the toy. The bag was red plastic, with the museum’s logo emblazoned on the front. “Have a nice day, sir!”  
He snapped.

“Sir?” He asked. “Sir?!” The second one came out like a snarl. Thank god no other customers were in here to watch him have a meltdown. “After all that’s happened, you just waltz in here, and pretend you can just write me off, and call me sir?!” He was being ridiculous and irrational, but he couldn’t help it. Something about her had cut him deep to the core after their break up. He still wasn’t completely over it.

She seemed taken aback by his comments. Then she uttered four words that had him seeing red, and made his heart break at the same time.

“Do I know you?”


	2. Chapter 2

Something inside him paused, shocked by the words. Then came the confusion, and then he saw red. “‘Do I know you’?! Do you not remember?! You don’t remember how much I loved you? Or how much it hurt me when you led me on a broke my heart not once but twice?! Was I that insignificant to you?! Just a pawn so you could fish for some compliments and get someone to make you feel good about yourself until you decided you were done?!” He was screaming now. Her boss walked out from the back, and gently pushed the scared girl aside to deal with the furious customer. She whispered something to her boss, and then ran into the back room.

“Can I help you?” Her boss asked. He looked at her shirt, which again proudly displayed the name of the museum, to find a name tag. She wasn’t wearing one. He floundered in front of the intimidating woman. Her brown eyes cut into him, and she obviously wasn’t happy about one of her employees being harassed. Even if he thought she deserved it. How dare she lie that she doesn’t remember him. How dare she pretend they never happened-

“I asked: can I help you?” Her boss interrupted his train of thought. He grabbed the bag, leaving his change on the counter, and stormed out of the shop. He noticed that behind the shop there was a narrow street that led out to the more popular parts of the downtown area. Deciding to follow the street, and get the hell away from here, he skulked towards it.

As he passed the back area of the shop, he smelled it. Cigarette smoke. Assuming it was from a bum, he whirled around and was prepared to tell them to scram. That there were children around, and they didn’t need the goddamn secondhand smoke to start rotting their insides. The words died on his lips. Sitting at the back of the shop, staring at him with wide eyes and a cigarette pressed to her lips, was her. He stomped over to her, and snatched the offending object from the girl before crushing it underneath his sneaker.

“What is your problem?!” She shouted, surprising him. Although it really shouldn’t have. “First you yell at me in my shop, then you’re snatching my smokes? What is your deal?!”

“What do you mean, ‘what is my deal’?” His voice was angry. “You’re the one with problems! You’re pretending you don’t know me-”

“That’s because I DON’T KNOW WHO YOU ARE!” Her voice cracked with how loudly she shouted. As soon as the words left her lips, she looked scared. And ashamed. It was an emotional outburst, something she’d always struggled with. Good to see some things never changed. Keeping the sudden bubble of anger in his gut at bay, he looked at her eerily calm and asked:

“What do you mean you don’t know who I am?”


	3. Chapter 3

Her face sat in a hard line for a second, as if she was debating on telling this stranger who obviously knew her. She didn’t want to divulge her pain to anybody, but she felt a pull to explain to him. So with a sigh, she began.

“Two months ago I was in a serious car accident.” The words tumbled out, and suddenly it was like a dam had burst. “The driver was killed on impact, but I had a piece of metal imbed itself in my head, and in my neck.” A shaky cough left her, whether it was from the injury or the smoking he couldn’t tell. He ignored the slight bit of red that spattered her lips when she looked back up. Then she pulled her hair up to reveal the scar. Dread crept up his spine. “I was in a coma for three and a half weeks before I came to.” Her hair fell back down to its original place. “And when I did, I could barely remember anything. I could remember math, and English. How to read and write, but any memories of people had gone. I couldn’t even remember my parents.” He noticed a lighter in her hands, she was flicking the flame nervously.

“Or the person who said she was my best friend.” Another flick.

“Anything I had gone through.” Another flick.

“Or anybody who had ever meant anything to me.” Another flick.

“So does this mean you don’t know who I am?” The words left his lips before he could stop them. He wanted to slap a hand over his mouth, of course she couldn’t.

“When I saw you, I knew there was something. But that might’ve been from how you reacted. That’s why I tried to be polite with you.” She pulled out a box of cigarettes, taking one from the package and letting it sit between her lips.

“You hated smoking.” He blurted out. “You were allergic to the smoke.”

“Well, things change, don’t they?” Despite the raspy edge in her voice, he could hear the snark that he’d once held so dear. “Now, scram kiddo.” She lit the end and took a long drag before blowing it out in a plume of toxic gas. 

“You want me to let you sit here and kill yourself? You’re not even old enough to smoke!” His voice was low, and he was struck with the realization of how horribly he was still enamored with her. She looked at him for a second, before she burst out laughing.

“Listen kid.” She said, after her giggles had died down. “I don’t care what kind of relationship we had before. Whatever we were, is gone. Whatever kind of angst we had, is gone. It died in that wreck.” She took another long drag, looking him straight in the eye. “I don’t know you. And for your information, yes I want you to let me sit here and kill myself.” Another laugh escaped her. “Because there’s nothing you can do about it.”

Her words sunk in, stabbing at his heart like barbs. He floundered again, mouth open in shock from her words. She’d never been a mean person before… Or had she been that good at hiding it?

“Now I’m only going to say it one more time. Scram, kiddo. Before I call security.” That was enough for him. He ran to the street, heading into downtown. When he got to the town square he collapsed, curling into a ball and sobbing.

The girl was given the rest of the day off. She got in her car, and began driving, ignoring the snow that coated the roads. She had a destination in mind. She got on a backroad, where people went about twenty or thirty over the speed limit without repercussion, and stepped on the gas. She felt, for the first time since waking up in that hospital bed, like she was doing something right.

She still had that feeling when she let the car fly off the road, and crash into a tree. 

In her final breaths she still felt the same. She knew someone would have heard the crash, and would come to investigate, but she didn’t care. She bled out, blood spreading around into the snow like a river. It would be hell to clean up for someone, but it painted a beautiful macabre picture in her mind’s eye. Focusing on the image, she smiled, closed her eyes, and breathed her last. He never found out.


	4. Chapter 4

In her final moments she’d never thought about how it didn’t snow where she lived. Or how she could remember English and math, remember her schoolwork, what school she attended, but not her parents’ names. Or her best friend’s. It never occurred to her that if she’d been in a coma for three and a half weeks, there was no way she could have returned to work a month later. Or that her parents would’ve let her drive so soon after such a life shattering event.

In a hospital room, somewhere, the girl lay. Tubes were connected to her, one supplying oxygen and forcing her to breathe, another supplying food, and yet another was a water drip to keep her hydrated. There were five people in the room, the hospital had generously bent their two visitor rule because of how young the girl was and just how much family she had. Her parents, looking gaunt and hardly responsive as their baby lay in a bed. Her grandparents weren’t faring much better. The two couples took up their space, and the odd one out sat next to the patient. The girl who’d been with her through it all, through her high school career, through abuse, anger, depression, and anxiety. She had taken it hard. She held the girl’s hand, praying, and squeezing it every so often, hoping desperately to feel her squeeze back. All she wanted was for the girl to wake up, crack a sarcastic joke to try and lighten the mood. They would all celebrate, and they would call it a miracle.

With a sudden jerk, the girl’s eyes flew open, her chest seized. Her pulse was suddenly much higher than it had ever been. Her parents and friend screamed her name, hoping to elicit some kind of reply. Her eyes didn’t focus on them, they flit around the room as if seeing everything all at once. Her mouth was open in a soundless scream as the doctors ran in, having heard the commotion. The pushed everyone out of them room, and tried to keep them from seeing that her heart had stopped. It had beat so much, so fast. To barely beat 60 beats a minute, and then triple its speed? Doctors were shouting at each other.

“She’s entered into ventricular tachycardia, we need a defibrillator, stat!” A distinctly female voice yelled. Someone ran to the opposite wall and obtained one. They started the counts, and then started up the machine, trying to revive the girl. The family had been ushered to the waiting room so they wouldn’t have to see the procedure.

It wasn’t for another hour of fruitless attempts before anyone had the heart to tell them the girl was dead.


End file.
